Atlas
There is a kind of love called maintenance
Which stores the WD40 and knows when to use it;Which checks the insurance, and doesn’t forget
The milkman; which remembers to plant bulbs;Which answers letters; which knows the way
The money goes; which deals with dentistsAnd Road Fund Tax and meeting trains,
And postcards to the lonely; which upholdsThe permanently rickety elaborate
Structures of living, which is Atlas.And maintenance is the sensible side of love,
Which knows what time and weather are doing
To my brickwork; insulates my faulty wiring;
Laughs at my dryrotten jokes; remembers
My need for gloss and grouting; which keeps
My suspect edifice upright in air,
As Atlas did the sky.UA Fanthorpe, from Safe as Houses (Peterloo Poets, 1995)
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